Twice as Upset as in Town
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: A vacation should be a time of rest and utter relaxation. The key words there are "should be." Written for the NFA Community Holiday Horrors Challenge
1. Chapter 1

"Chicago?" Tony asked as he peeked over Tim's shoulder. "Why are you going to Chicago?"

Tim swatted at Tony the way one would swat at a mosquito. "Would you get out of my personal space, DiNozzo?" He went back to looking at the website of Chicago attractions, making note of those that looked particularly interesting. "I'm going to Chicago because I need a break. It's been a while since I last had a vacation and I think I've earned it," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The past few weeks had been stressful for Tim. Jethro (the dog) had been howling every night for the past week. Nothing he did – no amount of food or exercise or love or attention – could placate the poor animal. On top of that, the team had been laden with cases. Every time they closed one case a new case appeared before them and they sprung into action. Tim had considered attaching a caffeine IV to his wrist just to keep him going, but he soon realized how ridiculous that sounded. After all, where was he going to find an IV needle and a bag that could hold a day's worth of coffee?

The icing on the cake, though, was his publisher's constant calls asking about the next book. He was only a month away from his deadline and he was at least six chapters away from the end. At first he had told her that he worked best under pressure and that he would be fine, but that could only appease her for so long. He'd begun screening his calls to avoid the inevitable scolding and reminders of just how much money she had sunk into this book.

"But why Chicago? Why not the Bahamas or something?" Tony asked. "You could lie on a small beach while a coconut-shell bra clad girl brings you Mai Tai after Mai Tai."

"I burn easily, Tony, and I hate the beach." The truth was Tim had thought long and hard about where he wanted to take his much needed vacation. New York had been a thought, but it was so close to D.C. it would barely feel like a vacation. L.A. had been the next thought, but it wasn't Tim's style. Besides, he'd prefer going to a city where he wouldn't require a car to get around. Hawaii was too tropic, New Orleans was too Southern, and Las Vegas was too wild. Chicago was just right. It was a big city, but not too wild. There were buses and trains to get him wherever he needed to go. The museums were interesting, especially the planetarium. He couldn't book the tickets fast enough. "Chicago is a nice place for me to relax."

"What's a vacation without a beach? Are you at least going to go clubbing and sample the night life?"

"Tony, I'm taking a vacation to rest, not to get plastered each night."

"And you plan to pick up girls…how?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Tony, this isn't a booty call!"

"Booty call? Do people call rear ends often, McGee?" Ziva approached his desk with a perplexed stare.

"No, Ziva, it's a term referring to sex."

"And you are not having sex?"

Tim looked ready to explode. "No! I mean, yes I've been having sex, Ziva, but I'm not taking a vacation to sample the local women. I just need a break from everything." He grabbed his things and readied himself to leave. "I hope you guys enjoy the rest of the week. When I return on Monday I will be far more rested than I have been these past few weeks," he promised, giving the two a wave as he headed to the elevator.

The doors opened and Tim happily stepped inside. In his mind he saw himself lying in a queen-size hotel bed, flipping through 120 channels as he ate from his room service tray. As the elevator doors closed, Tim sighed and leaned back against the wall of the elevator. Everything was set. Abby had agreed to dog-sit Jethro for the weekend. He had a plane ticket for tomorrow morning and three night reservations at one of the Marriott hotels. Friday he would do some sight seeing and spend the night at the LaSalle Bank Theater to see _Jersey Boys_. On Saturday he would see the intellectual stimulation Chicago had to offer, namely the Field Museum, Art Institute, and, of course, the planetarium. Sunday morning he'd return home, finally rested up for the night. His eyes closed in a bit of ecstasy, just thinking about how glorious the next couple of days would be.

**AN:** This is actually already finished and I'll probably post one chapter a day (five chapters in all).


	2. Chapter 2

Tim was in a cheery mood as he walked into the beautiful hotel, his suitcase toted behind him. The flight, while bumpy, had been one of the most relaxing moments he'd had of late. He had no responsibilities, other than getting up when the man by the window needed to sue the rest room, no one popping him with rubber bands and calling him derogative names, no one shooting and/or cursing at him, no steely glares. He simply had a comfy seat, salted peanuts, and time to sit and rest.

"Hello, can I help you?" An overly perky woman greeted Tim as he approached the check-in desk. Her smile, while somewhat crazed, was not disingenuous. Her nametag read "Gloria"

"Yes, I'm checking in."

"Can I have your name, sir?"

"Thom E. Gemcity." Tim inwardly grinned. The idea to book his trip under his penname had been a last minute decision. While it wasn't necessary, it gave him a thrill knowing that he was secretly tucked away in a Chicago restaurant and if, heaven forbid, someone was looking for him they wouldn't be able to track him down…unless, of course, they had half a brain and also checked for reservations under his penname.

Gloria's brow furrowed momentarily as she typed in the information. "Gemcity? That name sounds familiar." Tim blushed when he heard her say it, flattered that the name rung a bell with her. "Here we go, Mr. Gemcity!" she chirped as she handed him the key. "You'll be staying in room 401. Just to let your know, our dining area starts serving dinner at 5:00pm and we have a bar that is open 24/7. I hope you enjoy your stay!"

"Thank you." He tucked the key into his pocket, ready to get upstairs and just plop on to the bed.

Tim frowned at the door to his supposed room. The light was still blinking red, despite the fact that he had already stuck the key in twice. The handle held firm and no matter how hard he pushed against the door, he couldn't budge it open.

He double checked both the number on his key and the number on the door. Both definitely said "401" so he wasn't sure what he was doing wrong.

Again, he shoved the key in and pulled it out smoothly, but the light stayed red. In…out. In…out. In…out. Red, red, red. Tim was beginning to look a bit red himself.

Tim sighed, leaning his forehead against the door. He had been looking so forward to being able to get in a bit of rest. Now he would have to wait for the elevator, go all the way downstairs, talk with whomever could rectify this situation, wait again for the elevator, come all the way back upstairs and hoped that it worked.

He drudged to the elevator and got on with a scowl. The only other person on the elevator was a middle-aged woman who looked like she was heading for the pool. "Could you please push the button for the lobby?" he asked, not wanting to lean across her to push the button.

She glanced at him and Tim saw her face light up. "Yes, of course!" she replied, pushing the "L" button. The next few seconds were spent with Tim sighing and the woman glancing surreptitiously at him. "I'm sorry to bother you…but are you Thom E. Gemcity?"

Tim groaned on the inside, though his demeanor was pleasant as always. "Yes, ma'am, I am. Are you a fan?"

"Oh, yes!" she gushed. "I just loved _Deep Six_. My book club read it and none of us could put it down."

"Well, thank you. I'm always happy to meet a fan."

The woman glanced down and caught sight of the suitcase trailing behind him. "Oh, are you leaving already?" The disappointment dripped through her tone.

"No, actually, there just seems to have been a mix-up with the keys. I just got here and I plan to stay until Sunday."

"Oh," she said, very interested. "Researching your next book?"

Tim grinned. "Not quite. I'm just taking a vacation. I hope to do as little writing as possible this weekend."

The doors opened and the woman stepped out onto the second floor. "Well, I do hope I see you around, Mr. Gemcity," she told him with a smile and a wink. "I'd love to talk to you about your literature." The look she gave him, though, told him that his writing was the last thing she wanted to talk about with him. Still, he smile and bid her a good day, the smile not leaving his face until the doors had completely closed.

* * *

"I'm so sorry about the mix-up, sir!" a different and not nearly as perky woman said to Tim as she handed him his new key. "I can't imagine what happened!"

Tim's smile was plastered on his face. He wasn't about to deny that waiting for an hour to have them figure out what the problem was had annoyed him, but this girl wasn't the one at fault, so he didn't want to take his frustration out on her. "It's alright," he assured her, despite his inward feelings, "these things happen."

With his new key in hand, both he and his suitcase made the trek back up to the fourth floor. He held his breath has he inserted the key. Green. He smiled a real smile and exhaled as he entered the beautiful room.

The luxurious bed looked like a marshmallow of comfort, complete with a copious amount of pillows and chocolate mints on the pillows. Directly across from the bed was a large entertainment system which housed a large TV, complete with all of the available channels. The small area also had a small table, with two chairs, upon which Tim found a list of local restaurants, local sights, tourist information, and a room service menu.

Tim glanced into the bathroom and was delighted to see a large tub that looked like it could be used as a Jacuzzi in a pinch. The large mirror was outlined in large light bulbs, giving it the look of a Hollywood dressing room mirror. The towels were folded neatly, monogrammed with the hotel name, and hooked on the back of the door were two fluffy bathrobes which, when Tim touched them, felt softer against his skin than he could have ever imagined.

He exited the bathroom and flopped down on to the bed, reveling in the soft mattress as it almost swallowed him whole. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't had a proper meal since his breakfast that morning, but his mind and muscles ached, begging him to not leave the bed just yet. As the multiple body parts fought amongst each other, Tim found a compromise. He reached out and grabbed the phone.

"Hello, room service?"

* * *

Tim was lulling off to sleep. On the table was a tray that had been piled with steak, potatoes, asparagus, and blueberry cobbler. Only a small slab of steak and a few blueberries had been left behind.

The television was on, the credits of the previous movie rolling by, but Tim couldn't bring himself to even turn it off. His dinner had filled him up and he was ready to crash. Tomorrow was going to be a nice day of sight seeing, not to mention a show at night, so he wanted to be well rested.

He stretched out on the bed, limbs flopping everywhere, and snuggled down into the sheets and comforter, his mind already blacking out.

"HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!"

Tim shot up as he heard the unmelodic voice of Britney Spears blare from the room directly behind his bed.

"DUDE! GIVE ME ANOTHER HIT OF THAT SHIT!" a voice shouted from beyond the paper thin wall. "I'M SO WASTED, MAN!"

Tim banged his fist against the wall. "Would you be quiet!" he called, suddenly feeling like one of those cranky, old men who yelled at kids for hitting balls into their yard.

"THIS IS SO HOT!"

"Dammit!" he muttered to himself. He didn't want to be the mean old man who ruined the party, but he needed to get to sleep. He grabbed the phone beside his bed and hit the number for the lobby. "Yes, hello. I'm in Room 401 and the room next door is blasting music and being loud…"


	3. Chapter 3

Tim was jolted awake by the shrill ring of the bedside phone. His hand plopped over and grasped the receiver, pulling it against his ear. "Mm, hello?" he grumbled, not wanting to open his eyes.

"Hello, this is your 8:00am wake-up call!" a voice chirped in his ear. Tim didn't even attempt to reply. Instead, he dropped the receiver back in its cradle and nestled his head back into the pillow, not wanting to move.

Normally, an 8:00am wake-up would be considered sleeping in for him. He'd long since stopped considering anything after 6:00am to be "early." Of course, he normally didn't have a party going on next door, complete with ear-splitting music and young adults yelling to each other at the top of their lungs. Thanks to them, Tim hadn't gotten even three hours of sleep. Even calling the front desk hadn't helped. So he'd called again…and again…and again. By the fifth time he called, he was curtly told that they were unable to do anything at this point. Thankfully, everyone next door seemed to have gone to bed – or passed out, judging by how drunk they sounded – by 4:00am and Tim had eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep.

He rolled over on to his back and pried open his eyes, groaning as he did so. He did, of course, have the option of simply sleeping in and catching up on the sleep he'd lost. This was, after all, a vacation. However, he soon nixed the idea, not wanting his body to get into the habit of sleeping late. As it was he'd be losing an hour when he flew back home, so he planned to keep his bodily clock as steady as he possibly could.

Begrudgingly, he pulled himself from the comfortable bed and into the shower. The water was only lukewarm, but he wasn't in much of a mood to dawdle in the shower anyway. He quickly dressed and mapped out a plan for the day. The show wasn't until 7:30 that night, so he hoped to walk down State Street and Michigan Avenue to get the full tourist experience. He would simply let his feet take him wherever they pleased.

As he pulled his door closed behind him, he heard the music start up in the next room. He grinned, happy to be escaping the disturbance for the day.

* * *

Tim got the idea that he was being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, but saw no one. With a shrug, he returned to scanning the shelves of books. Still, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was being watched.

As he walked past the Mysteries and Crime novels section, he heard whispers coming from behind him. He once again glanced back, this time catching sight of two young women talking in low voices. They looked up and caught sight of him and they blushed at being caught. Tim smiled at them, but returned to the books.

"Um…" a voice trailed off. Tim turned once again to see the two women standing there. "Are you Thom E. Gemcity?" one of them asked shyly as her friend giggled beside her.

"Yes, I am," he admitted, hoping not to make a scene. "Can I give you autographs?"

The girls exchanged glances and more giggles before nodding and presenting Tim with a torn sheet of paper. "We're big fans," the second girl gushed. "Stacy and I…we both think you're cute!"

Tim blushed as he signed his name. "I'm flattered."

"Are you staying in town?" Stacy asked.

"I'm on vacation."

"Where are you staying?"

"I, uh, I'd rather not say. Nothing personal, I just kind of need some privacy."

"Oh, we understand," Stacy assured him in a hushed tone as though the three of them were discussing some secret mission. "Thank you for the autographs, Mr. Gemcity!" She pulled her friend away, the two whispering back and forth about their "celebrity experience."

Tim watched them going, letting out a sigh. He was grateful that his run-ins with fans had been minimal. While he appreciated the following his books had, he wasn't really in the mood to sign autographs. If he'd wanted to spend his vacation time writing he would have stayed home and tried to churn out a new book.

Before anyone else could spot him, Tim ducked out of the bookstore and soon merged with the plethora of people walking down the city street.

* * *

Tim's spirits were looking up as he stood in the crowd waiting for the theater doors to open. The rest of the door had been spent both sightseeing and shopping – he'd already promised Abby he'd bring her back a nice souvenir, and he certainly couldn't bring back something for her and nothing for anyone else – with a late lunch/early dinner at Brazzaz. He'd stopped off at his hotel room – chagrined to find that the party next door was still going strong – to drop off his purchases before catching a cab to the theater.

"May I see your ticket sir?" the usherette asked, holding out her hand for the ticket. Tim had ordered his ticket online and had printed his ticket out. He pulled the paper from his pocket and handed it to her. She ran her scanner over the barcode on the printed out ticket and then looked closely at the ticket. "Sir, this ticket is for next week," she told him with a frown.

"No, it's for tonight. I reserved it for tonight," he insisted.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to move aside," the usherette said as she handed the ticket back to him. Tim mutely stepped to the right and looked down at the ticket. Sure enough, the date on the ticket was for the following week. But Tim was positive he'd reserved his ticket for that night. He'd even double checked the e-mail confirmation.

"Is there someone I can speak to?" he asked the usherette.

"You can speak to our manager, but he'll only tell you what I told you." She pulled a radio from where it was clipped to her waistband. "We need Mr. Johnson down in the lobby, please."

Tim stood leaning against the now empty box office as he watched the other patrons enter the theater. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he could wipe the scowl off his face. He knew it wasn't the usherette's fault –she was, after all, only doing her job – and it wasn't the manager's fault, but Tim wanted to blame _someone_ for the fact that he wasn't sitting in a cushy seat waiting for the show to begin.

A well-dressed man pushed through the current of people entering the theater. He approached the usherette and she pointed to Tim. "What seems to be the problem, sir?" he asked in an even tone.

"Well, my ticket says it was for next week, but I know for a fact that I reserved my ticket for tonight. My confirmation e-mail even said it was for tonight. I double – triple – checked that."

Johnson took the crumpled ticket and glanced over it with a soft, "Hm." He motioned for Tim to follow him through another door in to a dark office. "If you could, pull up your confirmation e-mail," Johnson requested, pointing to a computer.

Tim slid in to the seat and logged into his account. He could feel Johnson's eyes on him, watching in skepticism as he pulled up his account. Tim had even begun to doubt his own claims. He grinned in satisfaction when he pulled up the confirmation e-mail and saw that it did indeed confirm his ticket reservation for tonight.

"Hm," Johnson once again hummed. He sat down and logged in to his work account. "I don't claim to understand what happened, Mr. McGee. Let me call in our office manager."

It was almost thirty minutes later when both Mr. Johnson and the office manager – a man by the name of Theil – finally came to a conclusion: a computer glitch had changed Tim's reservation with that of another user who had reserved a ticket for the following week. The two of them had both reserved a ticket for the same seat – though for two different nights – almost simultaneously. The other person had soon cancelled his reservation and it had been snatched up by someone else.

"I so apologize, Mr. McGee," Mr. Johnson told him sincerely. "We will give you a full refund, of course. We'd simply let you in, but we are sold-out tonight."

Tim shrugged, trying not to let his irritation show. Even if there were room, the show was already fifteen minute in and he didn't want to enter the show late. He was just grateful to be getting his money back for the show.

Mr. Johnson handed Tim a receipt for the money that he had been reimbursed. "We do apologize again. We'll have to keep a closer eye on our online box office."

Tim drudged out and hailed a cab. After giving the driver the address of the hotel, Tim flipped open his cell phone to listen to his messages. He'd turned it on silent for the day, not wanting to be interrupted during his vacation time. The screen told him that he had one new message.

"Hey, Timmy, it's Abby! I just wanted to see how you're liking The Windy City. I'm sure you're having a great time. It's been really boring at work lately. I've had to find creative ways to entertain myself. Jethro was really quiet last night. I think he misses you a lot. I've got to go, but I really hope you're having a great time. I'll call you again soon!"

**AN:** Poor Timmy. Can never catch a break!


	4. Chapter 4

Tim looked at his reflection in the mirror as he readied himself for the day. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, clashing with their bloodshot color. His cheeks were red from having pushed them so far down into his pillow in hope of drowning out the music from next door. The shirt he'd worn to bed was soaked in sweat and clung to his sticky body.

It had, of course, been another sleepless night, between the party next door and the torturous heat of the room. When he'd called down to the desk to complain about both, he was told that the AC had broken and that they were working on getting it going again. As for the noise? "I'm sorry sir, but we have no control over that party. The person paying for the room is the son of our manager. It's his birthday and he reserved the room for a two-day party." Tim groaned when he heard that. The woman he took his call must have sensed his frustration. "I wouldn't worry, sir! The group will be gone tomorrow, so tonight will be the last you'll hear of them." Even with his mounting headache, Tim grinned in relief about that.

His mood had soured when he'd woken up the next morning. He'd opted to really sleep in – 9:30am – but even with the extra sleep he didn't feel well-rested. He likely would have spent the day in bed if it weren't his last day in the city. There was no way he'd miss the Adler Planetarium and the Field Museum. Lord knows he'd had to push through work after nights spent assessing crime scenes, so he could certainly make it through a couple of museums, so long as he had come coffee pumping through his veins.

Strike One: The maids had come through his room the day before, but they'd neglected to leave a complimentary bag of coffee for him. Strike Two: Because he'd slept in so late, he'd missed the free breakfast and the only coffee left was decaf. Strike Three: Even though the city had a café and coffee shop on every corner, they all seemed to be jam packed with people, giving Tim at least a twenty minute wait, no matter where he went. He finally decided to stick it out and waited for half an hour at a Caribou Coffee.

"I think I know the answer to your question of the day," he told the barista while stifling a yawn. The blackboard behind the counter asked the question, "What name is given to the elements located on the far right column of the Periodic Table?" promising ten cents off to any customer who could correctly answer it. "They're the Noble Gases."

"Well, done, sir," the young woman said, ringing up his purchase with the ten cents off. Tim, with his steaming cup of coffee (10 cents free!) took off toward the nearest train station, hoping that this was a sign of better things to come.

* * *

"Your attention please: We are standing momentarily, waiting for signal clearance. We expect to be moving shortly."

"I heard you the first twenty times," Tim muttered under his breath to the digital voice that continued to tell them why the train had been stationary for the past ten minutes. He rubbed his temples as his headache began to come back with full force. In an attempt to relieve his stress, he squeezed his hand around his now empty coffee cup and watched the cardboard crumple up. It didn't help.

"Don't worry, they've been stopping these trains on and off for a while now. Something to do with construction work." Tim looked at the rotund man who was smashed up against him. The man, much like eight-five percent of the people riding in that particular car, was dressed in a Bears jersey and had paint smeared across his face. His ridiculous appearance made him blend in with the sea of blue and orange that was piled in the car. Everywhere Tim looked, he saw a foam finger or a large Bears sign or some other Bears paraphernalia. One bare-chested man even had "We're #1!" painted on his body. Tim was certainly in the minority on the train.

"How long does it usually take?" Tim asked. His lower stomach growled and he was regretting his decision to down his cup of coffee. He had looked around and there wasn't a bathroom in sight.

The Bears fan shrugged. "Anywhere from twenty minutes to forty-five minutes."

"What?" His stomach growled again and Tim groaned. "We may be stuck here for forty-five minutes?" In the time it was taking him to get downtown he could have _walked_ there. Not only was he stuck in a small train car (underground!), but his company consisted of a large group of hyperactive Bears fans and their far too large Bears props.

"Don't worry, buddy!" the man said, giving Tim a smack on the back. "At least you've got some great company!" He stood and shouted across the way, "Who's gonna win?"

"Da Bears!" the crowd responded.

"Who?"

"DA BEARS!" The train erupted in cheers and woots as people talked about the upcoming game.

"Isn't the game tomorrow?" he asked.

"We like to start the party early!" the man exclaimed. His announcement was met with more cheers. "You should come with us! It's not a Chicago vacation unless you get the full Bears experience."

"I'll pass," Tim mumbled as he willed the train to start moving again.

"You're gonna be here a while, kid," another fan pointed out. "You may as well get in the spirit. Stop being so mopey!" He reached into his small cooler and passed a bottle of beer to Tim. "It's on me, kid!"

Tim grimaced at being referred to "kid" and waved off the bottle. "I'm not a beer drinker."

"Heh, not a beer drinker!" the man exclaimed with a chuckle, elbowing the man beside him. The two shared a laugh at Tim's expense.

"So where you off to, kid?" the man next to him asked.

Tim resisted to the urge to let them know that his name wasn't "kid." "I'm going to the Field Museum and the Adler Planetarium."

The man responded with a guffaw. "I can save you the trip and the money. The Field Museum has a bunch of skeleton bones and the Planetarium has a bunch of stars. End of story."

"Mm, and the football stadium has a bunch of guys tackling each other." He winced the moment he said it, not wanting to start a fight, especially when he was out numbered…and had no where to run.

His fears were unnecessary, though, as the train of fans were barely even listening to him. The ones that weren't talking about the team were talking about Tim and about how he needed to be toughened up. "We'll make a man out of you, kid," the man beside him promised.

The train jolted into motion and Tim breathed a sigh of relief. "Grand is next. Door open on the right at Grand," the voice announced. Though it was a good seven stops away from his stop, Tim jumped to his feet. He couldn't bear the thought of having to stay crammed on the train with the wacky fans.

"Actually, I need to get off here." He ignored the men telling him that this wasn't the stop for the museums and slipped off the moment the doors opened. The thought of his fifteen minutes spent stuck on the train kept him going as he walked the remaining distance to the museums.

* * *

The sky was growing dark as Tim finally made it back to his hotel that evening. Despite getting off to a rocky start, Tim had enjoyed his day. The Field Museum and the Adler Planetarium had been money well spent and he had been relieved to find that nothing had really gone wrong for his day. He'd chosen to walk back to his hotel, not wanting to risk being stuck again on one of the trains, so it was no surprise that he was ready to crash by the time he got back. Luckily, the group next door would be moved out by now - the hotel requires that you move out by noon or be charged another night – so he could go to sleep as early as he wanted.

When he pushed through the revolving door, the first thing he noticed was that a group of people – mostly women – had congregated in the hotel lobby. There were at least one hundred people bunched together waiting in anticipation for something. Tim was curious, but he didn't feel like stopping to check out what was going on, and instead he went to push through the crowd. From the corner of his eye he saw Gloria, the woman who had checked him in the day he'd arrived, beckoning to him. "Mr. Gemcity!" she called in what she hoped was a hushed tone. It wasn't.

"It's him!" one of the girls squealed from the crowd. "It's Thom E. Gemcity!"

Tim watched in horror as the crowd quickly migrated toward him, surrounding him in an arc of people. He leaned back against the front desk, not only because he was tired, but also because the crowd was so close he wanted to put as much distance between him and them as he could. At the head of the crowd were the two girls he'd met the day before. "Um…hi…"

"See, guys!" Stacy said smugly, "I told you he was in Chicago!"

"We told the Gemcity fanclub that we saw you yesterday in Chicago," Stacy's friend explained. "We called all of the hotels looking for a Mr. Gemcity and we finally found where you were!"

"I'd have thought you'd make reservations under a fake name," one boy commented. "I mean, that's what most celebrities do."

Tim mentally kicked himself for being stupid enough to reserve his room under his penname. "I guess I didn't realize how much of a celebrity I was…"

"Could I get an autograph?" one girl asked shyly.

"Oh, me too!" cried another voice.

"I want to ask you about your next book!" said a third person.

"Yeah! Are Tommy and Lisa ever going to get together?" asked a fourth person.

Tim held up his hands in an attempt to ward them off. "I'm sorry…I would truly love to talk to all of you, but I don't have time…"

"Mr. Gemcity has a…uh…press conference?" Gloria said more as a question than a statement. When Tim nodded frantically, she reaffirmed, "Yes, he has a press conference. It's private, though."

"Oh…" the crowd sighed in disappointment.

"Um, if you will leave your addresses with the front desk for me, I promise I'll send all of you an autograph," Tim told them sincerely. "I'm sorry, but I, uh, have to go."

"I'll escort you upstairs, Mr. Gemcity," Gloria offered. Tim gave her a grateful smile as he bid his adoring fans good-bye.

"Thank you so much,' he sighed as the elevator doors closed behind. "I cannot _tell_ you how much I appreciate that. How can I ever repay you?"

"Just be sure to include an autograph for me," she said with a wink.

* * *

Tim fell into the bed, looking forward to a deep sleep with no interruptions from next door. The AC seemed to be running at full force, as the room was at an almost arctic temperature. His vacation was coming to an end and so far he hadn't been as well-rested as he hoped he would be, so he had decided to get to bed early and to sleep in the next day until at least 8:00am. His flight was at noon, so he'd have to leave here by 9:30am or so, but as long as he got to sleep that night, he knew he'd be fine.

As he drifted off into a sleep, he heard a loud voice from next door.

"Oh my God, Jason! Oh…oh, God yes! That's wonderful!"

"Oh, baby! Oh, God! God, you're beautiful! God…" a voice panted.

Tim's head sunk down into his pillow as moans and groans floated in from the next room. The wall shook as the bed slammed against it.

"YES, YES, YES!"

_No, no, no_, he thought bitterly to himself.

* * *

**AN:** Only one more chapter to go! Thanks to my faithful reviewers. I very much appreciate you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

Tim had known the moment he woke up that it was not going to be a good day. Why shouldn't it? Yhe day before had been just as horrid. The couple in the next hotel room hadn't rested all night and, therefore, neither had Tim. When he had finally pulled himself from the bed at 8:00am, he calculated that, in the past three nights put together, he had gotten less sleep than most people got in one night. He wearily got dressed and packed his things, more than ready to leave. It was only when he was settling his bill with the front desk that he was reminded of his fan encounter the day before.

"Here are all of the addresses, Mr. Gemcity," Gloris had said as she handed over a large stack of papers. "I think some of the fans also included specific questions for you to answer."

He had taken them wordlessly and had left an autograph for her, as per his promise. He caught a cab outside the hotel and sat in traffic for half an hour before finally pulling up in front of O'Hare. Of course, it hadn't mattered how long he'd gotten caught in traffic, because the monitors showed his flight as being delayed. He went through security, found his terminal, and then he waited. And waited. And waited. His flight home had been delayed almost four hours and he hadn't gotten home until about 6:00pm. By that time, Abby had left, leaving behind a full bowl of food for Jethro, and a note letting Tim he should take the dog out as soon as he got back. The note wasn't needed, as the moment he walked in Jethro was jumping up and down, whining to be taken out. Tim wanted nothing more than to slip into bed and catch up on some much needed sleep, but he couldn't ignore the dog's needs. After all, it wasn't Jethro's fault that the vacation had been a dud.

Now, Tim stood in the elevator as it ascended up through the floors. He wasn't so much standing as he was leaning against the wall for support. His eye lids kept dropping closed, only to pop back open as the elevator dinged at each floor.

"How was your vacation, McGee?" Ziva asked as he walked past her desk.

"Fine," he grumbled sleepily. He fell into his chair and gently rested his head in his arms.

"You look horrible," she commented. "Are you sick?"

"No, just tired."

"Didn't you just take a vacation to get some rest?"

"Yes." He paused, burying his face further into his arms. "It didn't work."

"Dead Marine found in Fairfax," Gibbs announced as he walked into the squad room. "Gear up!"

"Hey, Probie!" Tony called as he walked in behind Gibbs. "Your publisher has been calling your phone non-stop, asking about your next book. She said if you don't call her back by noon today…well, I won't finish that in polite company, but I left a note on your desk."

"Timmy!" Abby shouted, enveloping him in a hug. "I need to tell you that when I took Jethro for a walk on Saturday, he peed on some old woman's flower bed. She said she wants to talk to you about it. I left her number on your fridge."

"McGee! What part of 'gear up' do you not understand?"

Tim groaned, his head sinking down further beneath his arms. "I need a vacation…from my vacation…"

* * *

**AN:** Thus ends the story! Thanks again to all who reviewed (and thanks in advance to any who review after this chapter is posted).


End file.
